


A Case of Mistaken Identity

by GoldenSnowflake



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Gross But Hot, Lots of dialogue, Multi, Showdown Universe, Witty Banter, Wuya is Gross, flirtation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenSnowflake/pseuds/GoldenSnowflake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unfortunately, an abundance of knowledge can be detrimental if shared with the wrong person. Chase, Wuya, and Jack-centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The mist slipped lazily through the air, wafting around the stalagmites that reached out of the muck like claws and mingling with the smoke that billowed from the gaping mounds of volcanic soil below.  Shadows swam across the gaping mouth of Chase Young’s fortress, its fangs glittering with condensation and its eyes gleaming dully like some great beast awaiting the approach of unsuspecting prey. The halls within were still and silent, the air heavy with the slumber of a thousand sentries.

The dark-skinned figure shifted on red fabric, rolling onto her side and releasing a rasping breath. The glow of the torchlight illuminated her forest-green eyes as she stared absently into the shadows.

Chase folded his arms behind his head. It had been years since he’d been close enough to another to feel the warmth radiating off of them without the smell of their blood spattered across the floor following soon after. Wuya didn’t catch her breath for a long moment.

“It’s been a while,” she murmured. When Chase said nothing, she turned to face him. She rested her chin in the palm of one delicate hand, her spidery fingers covering her dark lips. “I’m sure that isn’t the case for you, of course.”

The warlord blinked, finally sighing. “A number of years, actually.”

“ _Years?_ ” He ignored the witch’s mildly surprised tone and gaze. “You shouldn’t take your permanently physical form for granted, Chase.”

“I don’t,” the man half-snapped, not removing his stare from the ceiling. “I am merely selective when choosing my partners.”

“That’s quite a compliment.” The Heylin witch smiled against her hand.

“I didn’t mean it as one.” The warrior turned to look at her then, smirking at the displeased face she made.

“I’m not stupid, you know.” She rested her hand on her hip, as if to make her annoyance more apparent. “I know you only restored me to my body for utterly disgraceful reasons.”

Chase all but grinned incredulously. “ _Disgraceful?_ What on earth could you be implying?”

“I’m not implying anything. You may be immortal, but you’re still a man. And men are all the same.”

“You must be mistaken. I only made you solid so I can slap you when you annoy me.”

The witch frowned an almost childish frown, drawing a laugh from the immortal warlord beside her. “I despise you, Chase Young.”

“I can tell.” He ran his fingertips over an ugly bite mark on his neck that directly contradicted her point. Wuya frowned more and looked away, prompting Chase to chuckle again.

“At least Jack had the sense to release me entirely. Without my powers I feel useless!”

Unable to restrain himself, Chase replied, “I assure you, you aren’t useless.” Ignoring her scowl, he continued less cheerfully, “And what is it with Spicer? I should be insulted that you favor him so.”

“Jackie’s a good kid,” the witch responded, meriting a disgusted growl from the warlord.

“As futile as his attempts at evil are, he might as _well_ be,” he uttered, fatigued beyond caring enough to be moved to any real anger.

“He may be a child, but he has potential, Chase. Though I doubt he’ll realize said potential any time soon, and maybe not at all without the right guidance.”

Chase sighed and returned his gaze to the ceiling. Wuya watched him for a long moment before deciding to continue. “He’s brilliant. His schemes are decent, though he rarely has the discipline and the courage to see them through. And his evil laugh _is_ quite impressive.”

“The fact that you’d concern yourself with such a triviality is proof enough that allying myself with you was a mistake.”

The woman blinked, her thick eyelashes momentarily obscuring her dark eyes. “You know I’m right, Chase.”

“If you’re suggesting I take Spicer on as an apprentice, you’re even more foolish than I thought.”

“I’m not. I’m just not going to let you belittle him any more than he deserves.”

Turning his head to look at her through the dark fringe of his bangs, the warrior sneered, “He deserves more belittlement than I have the time to articulate.” The witch only watched him, observing the anger that only those extremely familiar with the warlord would be able to identify from the minute twitch of his lips. “It is not enough that I have invited you into my living quarters? Into my _bed?_ What must I do to be immune to your nonsense?”

“Refuse to acknowledge him all you want, Chase,” rasped the beautiful immortal with a tilt of her head. “It really is of no consequence to me … as long as you acknowledge _me_ , anyway.” The dark magic shifted within the depths of her eyes as Wuya spoke.

The warrior turned to regard his companion, his expression a practiced blank. Only an ancient versed in Heylin would be capable of sensing the emotions Chase refused to show: anger, Wuya noted, ebbing into mild displeasure; displeasure followed by a subtle burst of the snide confidence that made him so alluring and yet so irksome at the same time.

After a long moment he lifted a graceful hand to stroke the witch’s face, coaxing a smile from her as his thumb brushed over her mouth. “If you insist.”

The Heylin witch chuckled softly as she leaned in to press her lips to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally posted in November of 2013 on Fanfiction - I didn't realize I hadn't uploaded any of my Xiaolin Showdown stuff here until I finished chapter two today and went to upload it. :y
> 
> Anyway, I'll try to get as much of my fanfiction on here as possible so you can find it all on one site.
> 
> Any and all Chack I will ever write is inspired by CrystallicSky, whose writing is freaking amazing.


	2. Chapter 2

The mansion was dark, save for the occasional antique lamp left on its dimmest setting, and quiet, save for the dozens of high-end appliances that impassively whirred away thousands of unnoticed dollars. To a modern human, the sound would be forgettable; a soothing white noise that fended off the resounding chill of silence. To an immortal, the drone was an irritating chorus of buzzing that sliced through the earth’s stillness.

Chase teleported into the house, disturbing nothing but the air his appearance displaced.

It was evident that almost no life currently occupied the house. The heat was set at a mere 55 degrees Fahrenheit and no mobile, more concentrated sources of heat were detectable. Had he not known that Spicer’s robots generated no warmth themselves, Chase would’ve been inclined toward suspicion. Instead he moved to locate the basement.

Jack’s lab was unoccupied (save for a handful of easily-avoided guardbots) and the warrior wound his way through the immense place unmolested. Scrap metal was piled on tables and in corners and toolboxes of all sizes rested on work benches and shelves like roosting hens. Blueprints and compasses and protractors covered the entirety of a single desk, the already chaotic spread besieged by dozens of sticky notes with virtually illegible scrawl on them. _The mind of a lunatic,_ he thought with a soundless chuckle and the upturn of his lips. _The mind of a scientist._ The peculiar individual in question was obviously off creating mayhem elsewhere, and Chase continued on, inspecting corners and alcoves that had not previously drawn his interest.

Against a wall of cement blocks he suspected was one of the corners of the mansion’s foundation, Young found an assortment of items he hadn’t come across in the past.

A scrap of shag carpet covered the concrete floor, and a twin-sized mattress on a bare wooden frame was pushed against the wall on top of it. A small dresser - child-sized, almost - was beside it, an absurd robot-shaped lamp glowing there. There were discarded pop cans strewn everywhere - the syrupy flavor mixed with the sweet edge of metal hanging thickly in the air made his lip curl. A threadbare stuffed cat with button eyes sat just beneath the edge of the bedframe, and at the foot of the bed and beside the nightstand were two sets of shelves made of welded-together sheet metal. What Chase found there surprised him.

Books.

Hundreds upon hundreds of books.

Dropping into a typically graceful crouch, the warrior’s pale eyes swept over their spines. The Iliad. The Odyssey. War and Peace, Hamlet, Lord Of The Flies, Frankenstein, Catch 22, The Count of Monte Cristo … there wasn’t a classic there he hadn’t read, though some he hadn’t picked up in a century. All were worn, their corners rounded and their spines soft and broken. Many were pierced by crinkled, foreign papers that angled up from the smooth tops of the pages, and they all smelled of Jack. He stood and moved to the other shelf.

Biology. Physics. Philosophy. The evolution of languages. Eight thick books on astronomy, all standing together on the shelf like sentries, each bursting with sticky notes and pamphlets and hastily-drawn diagrams in Jack’s hard-pressed hand. The warlord ran his finger over the titles, Heylin magic rekindling the thousands of hours spent pouring over the books and replaying them in curtailed form.

This was an interesting development.

The overlord spent the next few hours in the woods, cross-legged on a branch of an immense cypress, counting his breaths and letting the cold of the night soak into his skin. He turned over the information he’d gathered and weighed its significance.

Jack Spicer was brilliant, and not only in the idiot savant way that Chase was accustomed to.

Jack knew an impressive amount about a dozen of the most complex subjects - enough to postulate his own theories and make connections not even mentioned in the advanced books he’d spent days annotating. His comprehension of philosophy was remarkable, and the symbolism he’d picked out of classic literature was of a caliber Chase had only encountered a handful of times when speaking with history’s most brilliant literary minds.

More irksome than this discovery was the question it invoked.

_Why_ , by the Gods, did Jack waste all of his time and energy on being a bumbling imbecile when he was so damned _smart?_

The glinting of a billion stars faded as the remnants of evening slipped into the darkness of pure night, the moon growing pale and climbing higher above the treetops.

Finally, Chase stood, gathering his energy to teleport back to the Land of Nowhere.


End file.
